


A Promise of Things to Come

by kittenwrath



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24098992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenwrath/pseuds/kittenwrath
Summary: Stan's attempt at a first date.
Relationships: Stan Pines/Original Character, Stan Pines/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	A Promise of Things to Come

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for @smudgethistledraws on tumblr as part of an art/fic trade.

Before my knuckles could make contact with the front door of the Mystery Shack, it was flung open unceremoniously by the most adorable and energetic creature imaginable – Mabel Pines.

“You’re finally here, hurry up – come in!”

In fact, I was 10 minutes early. But, try telling this ball of energy _that._

Before I could reply, she grabbed my hand and practically dragged me up the stairs to the attic bedroom she shared with her twin brother. Catching only a small glimpse of Stan as he lounged on his worn chair in the living room, he tossed me a wink before disappearing from view. Naturally, I could feel my cheeks burn as my heart skipped a beat. And, naturally, Mabel was the first to notice. 

“Hey! You’re here now to teach me to draw, not to fawn over Grunkle Stan,” she chided as she slammed her way through the attic door, startling Dipper who was situated on the floor with about a hundred sheets of graph paper surrounding him.

“Oh hey,” he greeted as he gathered his wits. He had obviously been deep in thought, no doubt mapping out a new dungeon for his next game of DD&moreD.

Waving to him casually, I glanced around the room which was littered with half packed boxes and I was reminded that the summer was rapidly coming to a close. The twins would be returning to California by the end of the week and my weekly private sessions with Mabel would be coming to an end. Which also meant my opportunities to snag precious time with Stan would be coming to an end, as well. He and _his_ twin brother, Ford, would be resuming their seasonal sailing trip around the world, leaving the Mystery Shack back into Soos’ capable care. And I – I would go back to my day job; art teacher at the local high school. 

“Dipper, where are my art supplies?” Mabel questioned her twin as she tossed items from boxes in search. 

“How should I know?” he asked, annoyance lacing his tone as he gnawed on the end of his ink pen so hard, I was afraid it would explode in his mouth. “You’re the one who packed them away.”

“But you should have been watching me!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. Catching a hint of color from the corner of my eye, I strolled over to a box situated next to Mabel’s bed and pulled her pallet of watercolors from inside. “You found them!”

Snatching the pallet from my hands, she then dove into the box to retrieve the remainder of her supplies. 

“Uh, Mabel – it seems like Dipper has claimed most of the space up here today. How about we have today’s lesson in the kitchen?”

Dipper glanced up at me, displaying an appreciative smile as Mabel agreed and yanked me back toward the stairs.

–––––––––––––––

On our way to the kitchen, I was able to sneak one more peek at the man I’d been quietly admiring all summer before settling in at the table with Mabel and all of her supplies. For our last lesson, I gave her free reign to create whatever her heart desired as I casually day dreamed. In the living room, I could faintly hear Stan and Ford planning their fall adventure and I mentally inserted myself into those plans; imagined myself at Stan’s side, supporting him unconditionally. In fact, I’d do so regardless of a fantasy trip around the world, if only given the opportunity. 

And, why hadn’t I received that opportunity? I couldn’t quite say, to be honest. The brief interactions I’d had with Stan thus far included his poor, but endearing, attempts at flirting and my bashful giggling. It was nearly impossible to spend time with him alone due to one of the kids or his brother constantly milling about. And now, with the summer coming to a close, I’d probably not see him again for the better part of a year. 

Sighing to myself, I was only brought back into the moment when the snap of Mabel’s fingers, just inches from my face, pulled me from my brooding. 

“So, what do you think?” she asked, holding up the painting she’d just completed of her and her pet pig, Waddles. Mabel had picked up the techniques I’d taught her rather well and her own unique style emerged quite early. In truth, she was incredibly talented.

“It’s great, dear,” I assured, taking the small canvas from her hands to inspect it closely.

“Really?! Oh, I’m so glad because it’s a gift for you! I want you to keep it to have something to remind you of me and Waddles.”

Peering over the canvas at the young girl’s beaming smile simultaneously warmed and clinched my heart. I refused to accept any form payment when I’d agreed to tutor Mabel but I supposed taking this token of her affection would be fine. And, it was quite well done as Mabel was a natural talent. 

Glancing at my watch, I was disappointed that our final session was coming to a close. It was finally time to say goodbye.

I kept the affair as short and sweet as possible, hugging each twin in an almost vice like grip. Dipper was utterly adorable as his round cheeks flushed crimson and he stuttered his farewell. Mabel gave as good as she got, crushing my ribs with force I didn’t think was possible within her tiny body.

And, by the time I’d made my way to the door, the living room was deserted. I’d missed my chance. That is, until I somberly stepped out onto the front porch and collided with something large and solid. 

“Woah, watch where you’re goin’ there, toots,” a deep and gruff voice rumbled from the object blocking my path. A voice that was delightfully familiar and set a rush of warm dopamine through my circulatory system.

“I – I’m so sorry!” I stammered, gathering my wits as Stan wrapped his large hands around my biceps and peeled me from his front. “I was just on my way –”

“Say, whatcha doin’ this coming Saturday?” 

Now a foot between us, I glanced up toward his face to catch him peering down his nose at me. But, his eyes were soft; a hit of a smile playing on the corners of his mouth as he awaited my reply.

I felt a bit silly as I admitted, “I have no plans. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was – uh – wonderin’ if… ya know, if you’d maybe wanna catch dinner with me?” Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, a slight blush crept up from his neck to dust his cheeks. It was utterly endearing. He actually seemed anxious at the prospect of my refusal. “The kids leave on Friday afternoon and Ford and I won’t be packing up until the following week, so I thought –”

“Of course, I’d love to,” I replied before he could somehow talk himself out of it. “I’ll meet you here at 8:00 pm.” Then, I stepped around him and headed to my car without another word.

–––––––––––––––

When Saturday evening _finally_ arrived, I spent an exorbitant amount of time fussing over my hair, makeup and outfit. Checking the time every 15 minutes, the butterflies in my stomach seemed to be having a ticker tape parade. Then, with half an hour to spare, I drove the path that would lead me to the disheveled shack in the middle of nowhere.

What I’d expected when I arrived was far from what I was actually presented with. Instead of finding Stanley Pines in his normal attire, casually lounging on the ratty couch situated on the front porch, I was greeted with a dapper man in a proper suit holding a bouquet of flowers that appeared to be hand picked. 

Parking my vehicle, I was startled when Stan moved with impressive speed to make it to my door before I could open it myself. Tucking the flowers under one arm, he fumbled with the handle until it popped open and I gawked at him in confusion.

“Hey, don’t look so shocked,” he mumbled as he offered me a hand, which I gingerly took. “I can clean up semi-decent when the mood strikes.” 

Speechless, I took the offered bouquet and allowed him to lead me toward the shack. But, words continued to fail me as we entered, due to the sight before me. 

Someone had taken the time to thoroughly clean. The shack was spotless, from ceiling to floor and a pleasant aroma wafted toward me from the kitchen. 

_Someone_ had helped him arrange this. And, since the twins had departed the day prior, that only left one person. However, I knew better than to give Stanley’s twin brother any credit in this matter.

“I hope you don’t mind staying in,” he hedged, shifting his eyes toward me to gauge my reaction.

“Of course not. What smells so good?”

“Um, well –” he took the flowers from my loose grip and popped them into a drinking glass filled with water on the kitchen counter, “–chicken parmesan…?”

The uncertainty in his voice earned a giggle from me as he escorted me to the kitchen table. Everything had already been set up and served on mismatched dishware. There were two long stem candles placed in the middle of the display, flickering a soft glow on the meal that, indeed, resembled chicken parmesan. Silently thanking Ford for the valiant effort, I took a seat in front of one of the placements with a smile that I was certain resembled that of a lovesick teenager.

What was all this? Why had Stan gone through all the trouble when he could have easily taken me to Greasy’s Diner? Why had he even asked me to dinner in the first place? Most of our previous interactions had been brief and surface level. An intimate setting, such as this, begged familiarity or the promise of it. Or – or maybe I was reading far too much into a kind gesture? 

I was suddenly pulled from my inner contemplation when Stan yanked the other chair from the table and plopped down across from me. He seemed a bit stiff and awkward and he reached for the bottle of red table wine and poured himself a tall glass before scooching the bottle toward me. Taking his lead, I poured myself a glass as well and attempted to settle in. 

Dinner was, surprisingly, easy and carefree. Stan proved to be an excellent conversationalist and had fantastical stories that kept me on the edge of my seat during the duration. Soon, I found myself pouring my third glass of wine and my inhibitions were being softened around the edges as my smiles and giggles materialized with ease. 

“Ya gettin’ tipsy there, doll?” Waggling his eyebrows, he tipped the wine bottle toward me before taking a swig directly from it. 

“I could ask you the same question,” I countered, taking a larger gulp than was necessary from my glass. Another giggle passed my lips as Stan lowered his glasses to peer at me from above the rims. Suddenly stunned by his beautiful eyes, I covered my mouth with the back of my hand and averted my gaze. 

“Why did you ask me to dinner?” The words tumbled from my mouth before they'd even fully formed in my mind and the humiliation crept up from my chest to burn my cheeks. I wanted to take them back – stuff them back down my throat and swallow them whole. But, it was too little, too late.

Luckily, though, the wine had kicked Stan’s cockiness into high gear and he was more than willing to explain.

“You’re cute,” he stated simply, running a large hand through his hair. “I’ve also caught you making eyes at me. Couldn’t let that opportunity pass by, now could I?” Then, he laughed; a booming baritone that seemed to vibrate from his body, travel across the distance between us and tingle the tips of my fingers and toes.

I had no retort. Mostly because the wine was coursing through my veins delightfully, but the truth was undeniable. 

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

“Me too, doll.”

The conversation continued to flow, easy and effortless. Stan encouraged me to tell a story or two of my own when his reserve had finally been tapped. He even appeared interested as I spoke instead of the slightly annoyed demeanor he always wore.

Eventually, though, the conversation grew scarce and the wine ran dry. It was late and I became hyper aware of the fact that the two of us were completely alone in the shack. Briefly, I wondered where Ford could be. But, I hadn’t seen him all evening so it was _probably_ safe to assume that he’d taken refuge elsewhere for the evening. 

And, that realization sent a rush of adrenaline directly to the base of my spine.

“I should probably get going. I have plans to meet a friend for breakfast tomorrow.”

It was a poor excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. As much as I wanted to spend time with Stan, I didn’t want to move too fast and squander my opportunity for a meaningful relationship.

“Oh, of course, yeah. I’ve – uh – got important things to do too, ya know.”

Scrambling from the table, he approached me and offered me his hand in the same manner as when he’d met me at my car. The endearment hit me hard and actually felt tears prick my eyes as I slipped my hand into his. Seconds later, he had me to my feet and slyly tucked and hooked my arm around his in a guise to steady me as he led me toward the front door. Even though I wasn’t anywhere near intoxicated, I allowed him this reprieve and reveled in the warmth of his body where we touched.

Soon – too soon – we were standing on the front porch of the shack, a warm breeze caressing my cheeks and tousling the loose strands of my hair. This one singular moment was perfect and I would have been content for it to last forever.

That is, until I felt Stan’s gaze bore into me and I was compelled to tip my face upward to lock my eyes with his. 

His expression was soft and somehow sweet – expectant. Something seemed to crackle in the atmosphere between us, drawing us toward one another like the pull of a magnet. I was powerless to resist it, even if I’d wanted to, so I nearly melted when Stan gently cupped the back of my neck and coaxed me toward him.

His lips were firm yet yielding as they molded around my own. Almost chaste in their gentleness and my heart swelled with thick emotion. I returned the kiss with as much fervor as I could muster, slightly opening my lips to encase his before swiping my tongue very lightly on his bottom lip. It was a promise of things to come… _later._

Then, just as soon as the kiss began, it was over. The warmth and pressure now a ghost upon my lips as he pulled back and released me. I was slightly dazed as he chucked and slung one burly arm around my shoulders. 

“Don’t lose my number while I’m gone this fall, huh?” The uncertainty in his voice made me smirk. Did he actually think I’d forget about him?

“Impossible,” I replied, pointing toward the bumper sticker Mabel had plastered on the back of my car with the Mystery Shack’s telephone number in large, bold font.

“Good girl.”

**_**The End.** _ **


End file.
